


Mary Thinks Cas Should Have Nice Things

by GertieCraign



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fluff, Cas and Mary are becoming buddies, Cas got new clothes, Castiel in the Bunker, Drinking, Eating, Ellipses Abuse, Fluff and Crack, Gen, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, M/M, Mary Winchester has a plan, No idea what timeline this is, Swearing, The characters are also drunk, resort to base teenager tactics, teach the awkward one how to dress hot and flirt, when love loyalty devotion and proper romance isn't enough to cure them of the stupid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-03-17 06:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13653375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GertieCraign/pseuds/GertieCraign
Summary: Dean and Sam arrive home after a hunt to find their mom and their angel drunk, propped up on Cas’s bed watching stupid videos, and surrounded by a dozen or so questionably-executed craft projects. There are cookies in the oven, new clothes in the wash, new paintings waiting to be hung, and for some reason, Cas is wearing one of Mary’s sundresses.(NOTE:  I don’t know what this is.  I was drunk and aggravated with my other WIPs, so I opened a new doc and this fell out.I cleaned this up a bit and then added to it. Drunk-writing makes for fun stories, but fucked-up prose. It's not well thought out, it's just...hopelessly predictable drivel.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> it's a weird place to stop chapter 1, but I needed to post or I will never finish. Chapter 2 is nearly done.  
> I always say that don't I? *sighs in disgust*

 

 

It was the loud cackling that struck them first - not the smell of popcorn, pizza and beer...and whatever confection was clearly done cooking in the kitchen, judging by the insistent buzzing of the stove timer. Just their mother’s full throated, uproarious laughter, coming in burst after burst from the side hall and echoing through the war room.

“Ooookaaay,” Sam hummed as he pulled the inner door of the bunker closed behind him.

Dean walked to the edge of the upper landing, and stood gazing over the rail.

Cas appeared in the right corridor entryway and made a mad dash across the war room. He was wearing a different trench coat - it was longer, more military looking, and it draped and flowed dramatically behind him as he ran toward the kitchen.

“Cas!” Dean called out.

Cas stopped abruptly and looked around...then up at the landing.

“Ah,” he said with a lopsided grin. “You’re back. Hello, Dean. Sam.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Dean asked. He gave his friend a quick once-over and frowned. “You got a new coat? Wait, where’s your shirt… W _hat the hell are you wearing?!_ ”

“Oh.” Cas looked down at himself and parted the front of his trenchcoat, exposing a menagerie of ruffles and flowery fabric. “I spilled butterscotch liquor on myself. Mary loaned me this.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“I have to get the cookies out of the oven,” Cas announced and continued on his way.

“Was that a dress? Is he wearin’ a fuckin’ _dress_?!” Dean demanded of his brother.

“Looks that way,” Sam said as he headed down the stairs.

Another burst of laughter echoed through the war room and then Cas ran back through, toward the side corridor. This time, he simply smiled at his friends, and kept going.

Dean sighed, annoyed. “Werewolves are dead and we’re both fine, Cas, thanks for askin’,” he grumbled and tossed his duffel onto the map table. Sam sat his bag next to his brother’s and made a beeline for the bathroom.

Dean followed the sound of his mother’s voice all the way to Cas’s room, which was now a wreck of assorted bowls, bottles, food containers, newly purchased decorations and what looked like ten or so half-finished little projects of one sort or another.

Mary was sitting on Cas’s bed, clad in comfy flannel pj’s and propped up with a few loudly colored throw pillows. Cas was tucked up right next to her, also propped with pillows. His trench coat was skewed on his shoulders and open, revealing the deep vee neckline of what was definitely a frilly sundress. The purple, flower-covered ruffles draped over his dark pants and joined one side of his coat in half falling off the bed. He was holding knitting needles and working on something that looked like it might eventually be a badly misshapen hat.

They were both clearly drunk and watching something on the laptop that Mary found to be unbearably funny. There were tears running down her bright red face. She roared again, throwing her head back and slapping her thigh. Cas joined her this time with his rare, low giggle. Mary shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth and then noticed her son in the doorway.

“Hey!” she shouted, beaming at him around a mouthful. “You’re back! Hi, sweetie.” She nearly spilled the beer she was holding, when she tried to wave at him. She caught it and continued. “How’d the hunt go?”

“Fine. You’re drunk?”

“Yeah. Three days. ’S been awesome! _Toad’ly_ needed this. We ran outta th’good stuff ‘round noon, though. ‘N Cas agsiden'lly turned the buddershhcoshh snahpps inta cologne. Buh we saved you s'm beer.”

“I am sorry about that,” Cas said, looking at her guiltily.

“Nah!” Mary said and nudged his shoulder with hers. She reached over and pat his thigh reassuringly. “I toll ya don’ worry ‘bout it. ‘Sides, y’smell awesome, now. ‘S a bummer ih’s all gone, though. Tha' shit was _good!_ ”

“Three days? You’ve been drinkin’ the _whole time_ we’ve been gone?” Dean took a step into the room and looked around, not sure how he should feel about all of this. He picked up the result of what looked like a really iffy attempt to make a gigantic tissue paper flower, and eyed it suspiciously.

“Yep!” Mary grinned. She gestured vaguely at what Dean was holding. “Yeah...those di’n’t turn out.” She threw her hands in the air and sighed. “We tried.”

“They’re more difficult to make than the youtube video lead us to believe,” Cas said, while his hand chased the knitting needle he’d just dropped. “Though I imagine the alcohol may have had something to do with it.” He caught the needle when it got hung up in the sea of ruffles on the lower half of his dress.

“Buh the li’l ones worked,” Mary said brightly, as she grabbed a fist-sized, fuschia flower off the nightstand. She giggled and deftly slipped it behind Cas’s ear. He grinned, still focused on his knitting. She then grabbed a wreath of badly wilted wildflowers and placed them sloppily on her own head.

“Th’n Cas wen’ out ‘n found these ‘n made me th’s pretty hair thingy, so now we match. Like besties!” She giggled again and Cas smiled hugely at her. He reached up and attempted to straighten her little crown, but it barely helped. The flowers were not in good shape anymore.

Mary produced her phone seemingly out of nowhere and held it out in front of the two of them.

“Say ‘cheese’!” She lined the camera up and grinned like an idiot.

Dean watched his mom angling her phone to take a drunken selfie and was about to respond with unmasked horror, when Cas obeyed her coaxing and leaned into the shot. He actually said, “cheese”, and then gave the camera his best ‘smile like a human’-face, which was just as terrifying as usual.

A thought occurred to Dean and he made a mental note to get those pictures before his mom could delete any of them. If these two really had spent the last 72 hours snapping selfies while LARPing as ’fifteen-year-old girls with a crafting fetish’, then there were likely dozens of pictures on that phone he could use to settle a long-standing argument he’d been having with Cas. Dean could prove to him, once and for all, with actual, visual evidence, that the rehearsed smile he’d been honing was _not_ the charming, reassuring expression Cas thought it was. It did _not_ , as Cas kept insisting, make him look like a normal human male - it made him look like an alien _wearing_ a normal human male and that scares the shit out of people.

Dean continued to stare at the two of them for a long moment. They’d both turned their attention back to the laptop and once again burst out laughing. He slowly shook his head.

“Wow,” Sam said from the doorway. He looked as though he were handling this scene about as well as Dean.

“Guys, c’mere,” Mary gasped. She sloppily waved for her sons to approach. “Cas foun' these vine things.”

“Compilations,” Cas quietly corrected.

“Vine compl’at’ns - yeah. I dunno who th’hell these people are, buh they’re h’larious! Where’s the one, Cas? Show ‘em th’ r’lly good one.”

“Which one?”

“Th’other one. _You know_ …” she whined and smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. “The one with the _music_ ‘n tha' _kid_ w'th the _thing_.”

Cas leaned over and looked at the screen. He squinted and adjusted his head a few times, trying to focus. He clicked through a couple of selections and Mary piped up.

“That! Tha’s th’ one, yeah.” She burst out laughing preemptively. “C’mere, guys.”

“Yeah...maybe later? Mom? Um...we kinda wanna get cleaned up... Get unpacked. Grab some food...” Sam stammered slightly over the words as he continued to look around the room. He, too, looked like he was trying to decide if he should be worried about any of this.

“Well!” Mary slapped the bed and awkwardly tipped the laptop off of her lap so she could get up. “Then _you_ , my friend…’r in the right place. We _cooked!_ An' ih’said REEEALLY good! Cas found rezzipees.” She made for the doorway, intent on dragging everyone to the kitchen.

“What’re…” Dean said when he turned to his right and saw a whole spread of framed art leaning against the wall. “What’s with the gallery?”

“We went shopping,” Cas said as he wrapped up his knitting into a bundle and tossed it on the bed.

“His room was jus'... _depressing_ ,” Mary added. “ _Super_ boring. That had t' change. _Sooooooo_ …we got a bunch of pictures ‘n pillows ‘n...stuff.” She gestured at the paintings and Dean stepped back so he could take them all in.

There were far too many for Cas’s small room, but Dean held his tongue. Cas would figure it out and eventually they’d just need to find other places for some of them. Most were innocuous enough - pleasant, recognizable works like Monet’s ‘Water Lilies’, Van Gogh’s ‘Sunflowers’ and ‘Starry Night’, etc. Dean would be ok with hanging any of those in the common areas of the bunker. But Cas also had a couple of abstract pieces that Dean didn’t even want to try to decipher. One was bizarre enough to be a little disturbing.

Mary noticed which image her son was looking at when he flinched and furrowed his brow. She snorted.

“Yeah I don’ get tha' one either,” she mumbled. She looked over at Cas with mock-disapproval. “See? S’freakin’ _him_ out, _too_.”

“You said I should pick things that appeal to me. I liked that one.” Cas tilted his head and stared at it. “It’s imaginative. It doesn’t have a...plan...or a mission. It just...is what it is.”

“Yeah but…” Mary looked back at the painting and curled her lip. “I mean, you picked out a whooole bunch’a gorgeous stuff 'n then _that_ creepy thing. Ih looks like 'n eyeball in a pond.”

Dean pursed his lips and nodded. “I was gonna say ‘eyeball soup’…”

“Eh well...whatever it is...” Mary waved dismissively at the painting and turned. She gave Cas a pat on the arm and then stumbled toward the door. “'F you like it, Cas, then ih’s perfetk. Perfet. Per... _fect_. An' ih'ss goin’ on the wall. We’ll paint the frame like you said.”

Dean stepped back and let his mom stumble past, but he reached out and stopped Cas. He glanced at Sam, who looked between the two of them, nodded, and then turned and followed Mary.

Cas calmly waited, just barely smiling at his friend. He picked up on Dean’s concern and his brow wrinkled.

“What is it?”

“You tell me,” Dean said in a lowered voice. He dragged a hand over his mouth and chin. He glanced out into the corridor, to make sure they were alone. “What’s goin’ on here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean_...what’s with the booze and the...I dunno...the jacked up maker-faire goin’ on around here? Is she ok?”

Cas nodded solemnly. “She’s…” he hesitated, searching for the right word, “...adapting. Slowly.”

“Is she still not comfortable? Here? I mean, I totally get wantin’ to get hammered - maybe lose a few hours or even a whole night... Hell, for a hunter, that’s high-quality ‘ _me_ time.’ But you don’t _stay_ checked out for _three whole days_ if everything’s peachy.”

“Well...more like two and a half. We drove to Manhattan and then Wichita to shop-” Cas cut himself off, when he saw Dean’s reaction and realized he’d wandered off topic. He nodded and cleared his throat. “Dean...her life...everything she knew...it’s all gone.”

“I get that, Cas. I do. I just...thought she was...I dunno...building a new one… Ya know? Here...with us. I mean, does she need…” He scrambled for anything he could suggest and came up empty.

“She’s not going to leave again,” Cas assured him

Dean hesitated. “She told you that?”

Cas nodded. “She has no intention of leaving you and Sam. She wants to stay.”

“She actually said that...those words?”

“She did,” Cas nodded. “She and I discussed a great many things while you were gone. Much of it was just as helpful for me as it was for her. Maybe moreso. She’s very insightful, your mother. And wise.” He smiled. “She reminds me of another Winchester I know.”

Dean snorted, half embarrassed and half derisive. Cas’s smile grew a bit bigger and he continued.

“You shouldn’t worry. This...bender of hers was far more helpful and productive than those I’ve witnessed in either you or Sam. Certainly better than my previous failed attempt at drowning my sorrows in alcohol.”

Dean ignored the side-swipe criticism and nodded, then followed Cas out of the room.

“You know...yours didn’t qualify as a real bender,” Dean said as they strolled toward the kitchen.

Cas squinted at him. He wasn’t sure how to respond. “I don’t understand,” he finally said.

“Look, the whole point of a bender is to get black-out drunk and make bad choices...end up face down in a gutter, ya know? You're supposed to _fuck up_ _,_ Cas, so, it’s not a real bender if you just drink enough to get mouthy, and then go back to your motel room and help your buddies figure out how to save a whole town full of people. That’s...WAY too responsible."

“So...you’re saying if I’m going to drink heavily, I should mimic what I’ve seen you do?” Cas said with a tiny smirk.

“No!” Dean halted and put his hand up to stop Cas. “ _God_ , no...don’t _ever_ do that. I’m sayin’ you don’t have it in ya to be a selfish, irresponsible dick. And that’s a good thing. Don’t change that. You don’t wanna be like me.”

Cas looked slightly crestfallen, and Dean turned away. They started walking again.

“In fact, don’t copy anything I do,” Dean continued. “It’s good you’re hangin’ out with Mom. She’s prob’ly a better example of how to be a human.” He glanced at Cas’s attire and winced. “Well...I guess she’s not exactly a great teacher either, but...if you wearin’ a dress is the worst that comes of it, then...ya know…” He shrugged.

“Dean...what happened on the hunt?”

Dean didn’t answer until they were almost to the kitchen door.

“Nothin’. It went fine. Just…” he paused and shook his head. “There are better teachers, Cas.”

Cas sighed heavily - his happiness had completely faded.

“I’ll never understand why you insist on seeing yourself in such a negative light.”

“It’s not about how I see myself, Cas...I am what I am.” Dean hesitated, then threw up his hands in exasperation. “Great, now I’m quoting God,” he huffed and wiped his hand down his face. “Look...I’m tired...and I’m hungry and I want some of that beer you didn’t drink. Let’s just forget I said anything.”

Dean entered the kitchen and headed straight for the refrigerator. Cas wandered in behind him, looking sad and tired, as though the previous three days had finally caught up with him.

Mary was sitting at the table with an entire plate full of shortbread cookies in front of her. She saw the joyless, burdened look on her new buddy’s face and her smile vanished. She dropped her arm onto the table with a thud and glared at her eldest son.

“ _God dammit, Dean!_ ” she barked, spitting shortbread crumbs. “He w’s happy th'  _whole time_ you were gone! What the hell’d’you say to him?!”

Dean looked at her, stunned. He had no idea how to respond to that.

She loudly huffed in disgust and rolled her eyes. “C’mere, Cas. Sit next t’ me.” She pat the seat beside her and glared at Dean. “ _I’LL_ be nice to you!”

Cas took the seat she offered and she put the last unopened beer in front of him.

“Oh,” Mary chirped, setting her own beer bottle down a little too loudly. She leaned over and whispered in Cas’s ear. “The clothes’r dry now. Go put on the ou’fit.”

Cas pulled back and looked at her. He fidgeted, glancing nervously toward Dean, then back at Mary. “Now?” he asked.

“Mmmhmm,” Mary hummed. Then she giggled and smiled hugely at him as she bumped his shoulder with her own to get him moving. “Go on. Lemme know ‘f ya need help.”

Cas almost rolled his eyes, but decided to just nod and do as she directed. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He got up and shot Dean a complicated look before walking out of the kitchen.

“Oh, you’ll be _fine_ , alright,” Mary mumbled under her breath. She bit another cookie in half and grinned. “ _Damn_ fine…” She giggled and puffed out a scattering of crumbs.

Sam made his way to the other side of the table, right as Cas got up and left.

“What was that about?”

“He got new clothes, so w'r gettin’ a li’l fash’n show.” She took a hefty swig of her beer and then pointed a threatening finger at her eldest. “ _YOU_...be nice!”

“Wha... _How_ am I in trouble right now?!” Dean complained.

“You know wha’ you did.” Mary waved dismissively at him.

Again, Dean stared at her, completely baffled. When she ignored him, he looked at his brother for answers. Sam just shrugged. Dean rolled his eyes and downed half his beer.

“Mom...Cas...doesn’t really do the whole... _fashion_ thing,” Sam said. “He only needs one outfit.”

“Exac'ly!” Mary said, pointing the same accusing finger at him that she’d just used on Dean. “An'  _you_ two let ‘im walk around in that shitty coat...'n that...damn... _giant_ thick shirt...just all… _polyester_ ‘n... _gross_...'n that _tie_...” She made a guttural sound of disgust. “Look’d like he mugged a _pudgy,_ _ninety_ -year-ol’ _baptist_ f’r ‘is clothes.”

Sam didn’t say anything. He just shifted in his seat so he could lean back against the wall.

“So this was your idea?” Dean asked.

“Yep,” Mary said and finished her beer. She threw the empty bottle halfway across the kitchen, toward the trash can.

Both men flinched, waiting for the explosion of glass. It never came. The bottle went straight into the can and spun the flip lid a few times. They stared at her, too stunned to comment - it was a hell of a shot for someone too drunk to speak properly.

“You got him a bunch of stuff?” Dean asked. “I mean...that’s...nice, I guess, but...he’s not big on switchin’ out clothes. I don’t think he even thinks about it. It doesn’t matter to him.”

Mary started to argue, but then she slumped and let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah...I got that when we w’r shoppin’. _But_ ,” she reached for another beer out of the six pack and popped it open. “...he nees a couple ousfits tha’ll look good. I’m settin’ ‘im up with somebody.”

That got both brothers’ full attention.

“Really?” Sam asked, as he leaned forward, eyebrows raised.

“Mmmhmm,” Mary hummed.

“Who?” Dean demanded, probably a little more strongly than he intended. Mary caught the tone change and her grin got a little bigger.

“Someone I’ve gott’n’ta know priddy well,” she said smugly. “ _Really_ good guy. He’ll be great w’th Cas.”

“W- a _guy?!_ ” Dean stammered. “Does _Cas_ know that?”

“Ih’s _fine_ , Dean,” Mary groaned.

“Mom...Cas likes _women_.”

“Yeah, buh he’d be jus’ ‘s happy w'th a guy.”

“He said that?” Sam asked. He was staring at his mom in open shock, but there was the hint of a tiny smile ticking up one corner of his mouth.

“Yyyyyep!” Mary crooned.

“Wait...hang on…” Dean shifted uncomfortably and rubbed his eyes with a thumb and finger. “You’re serious? You’re really setting Cas up with somebody you just met? Some... _guy_?!” He was starting to sound more and more like a horrified parent.

Mary frowned at him and slumped in disgust. “Come _on_ , _man_...I _said_ I _know_ the guy. Ih’ll be _fine_. Don’ be suj a _square_!” She rolled her eyes and sloppily drew a square in the air with her pointer fingers.

Dean’s mouth fell open and he once again looked to his brother for backup. Sam threw up his hands, making it clear he was staying out of it.

Dean frowned at him, then looked back at his mother. He was gearing up to grill her about this mystery dude: who he was; was he a hunter; how well did she know him; how did she know he was a ‘good guy’; where Dean could find him so he could carve out his liver if the son of a bitch ever hurt Cas; etc.

He didn’t have a chance to ask any of them. Cas walked back into the kitchen looking a little nervous and nine kinds of gorgeous and Dean nearly dropped his beer.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Sam’s eyes went very wide.

“Wow! Cas! Solid thrift store shoppin’,” he chuckled. He lightly pinched the fabric of Cas’s new vest. “Is that silk?”

“Sure is,” Mary said with a giant smile. “Nothin’ like silk…”

“It does have a rather unique feel,” Cas said. He was trying to act cool, but a blush was quickly rising into his cheeks. He was very obviously avoiding looking at Dean. “And the, um...the shirt also feels… Well, it’s all very comfortable. Though, the jeans are rather snug.”

Mary leaned back a little, so Cas’s body would block Dean’s view of her. She put her fingers in her hair, making little lifting motions. Cas caught on and quickly dragged his fingers into his hair, breaking the combed sections into messier clumps.

Mary gave a thumbs up and smiled at him, then reached out and began fussing with the back adjustment on his vest.

Her grin was almost too big - she had to keep toning it down, but it was getting harder to do. She’d been surreptitiously watching Dean since the moment Cas came back into the room and she’d nearly cracked when Cas mentioned the snugness of the jeans and Dean’s eyes scanned down to verify.

“Whatcha think, Dean?” she coaxed. “Duhn’t he look great?”

Dean froze like a rabbit for about two seconds, then pulled it together and leaned back against the island countertop, crossing his ankles. He’d honed lying to a fine art over the years, so he almost managed to look relaxed.

“Yeah,” he said, gesturing toward his friend with his beer. “That’s...yep.”

Cas finally looked at him. He immediately recognized how uncomfortable Dean was and he turned back to Mary, looking more than a little worried. Mary grinned and winked at him reassuringly.

“Hey...I could use another cold one.” She wiggled her half empty bottle at Cas. “These got warm. You need one, too.”

Cas hesitated. He and Mary stared at each other...then he swallowed and nodded, turning toward the refrigerator.

“I got it,” Dean mumbled and cut in front of him.

Sam huffed quietly and took a swig of his beer. “This is gonna end bad,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for his mom to hear.

Mary side-eyed him, trying to determine if he’d already picked up on the plan. His smile told her he had. She smiled back and giggled, then wadded up her napkin and threw it at him.

“Don’t jinx it!” she whispered, and clicked her tongue. “Kill-joy.”

Sam deflected the napkin with a forearm and smiled.

Mary looked over at Dean just in time to catch him straightening the knot in Cas’s tie. Cas was letting him do it. Her smile got a lot bigger.

 _‘Good job,’_ she thought at him. She bit into another cookie. _‘Now, find a way to touch him back.’_

Dean finished with the tie and dropped his hands away. The two of them stood staring awkwardly at each other for a few seconds before Dean remembered that Cas needed beers. He turned toward the refrigerator just a little too eagerly.

Cas had started to reach out to touch Dean’s arm, but Dean moved away too quickly. He winced and pulled his arm back tight to his side.

_‘It’s ok. It was a good try. You’ll get the next one.’_

Cas looked over his shoulder at Mary and nodded.

“Prayer?” Sam mouthed. He looked scandalized.

“Maybe. Shush,” Mary barely whispered.

Sam wiped his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing and Mary bit her lip and lightly kicked him under the table.

The blush that had been creeping up Cas’s face got darker and he side-eyed the two of them disapprovingly.

The kitchen timer went off and Mary was pretty sure if she’d been packing a gun she’d have shot the thing.

“ _Shit…_ ” Mary gasped out. “Ok, _that_ thing has to go,” she declared, after her heart started back up.

“I got it.” Sam said and got up. He shut off the alarm, and pulled the roast and potatoes out of the oven.

“Leh’s play cards,” Mary announced. She fished out the deck she inexplicably had in the pocket of her pajama pants and began shuffling, while Sam served up dinner for himself and his brother.

“Ok,” Sam agreed around a mouthful of food. He looked down at his bowl in surprise and made a few yummy noises.

“Good, huh?” Mary asked.

“Mmm,” Sam agreed, nodding.

“It’s awesome,” Dean gushed as he and Cas made their way to the table with the beers. “Thanks, mom, this hits the spot.”

“Cas made it,” Mary said. “I jus' sup’rvis’d, ‘cause...y’ know...kitchens arn exac’ly sec’n nature t’ inner-d’mensh’l beings,” Mary explained.

Dean pointed dramatically at his bowl of food and stared across the table at Cas.

“ _You_ made this?” he asked, sounding just as surprised as he looked.

Cas nodded once and sat a bit taller. He was trying to keep his expression neutral and humble but he was too pleased with himself to pull it off. He looked downright smug.

Dean grinned and dug back into his food with just a little extra vigor. “Damn, man...this is… You’re definitely gettin’ kitchen duty next time I’m too tired to cook.”

“I’m always happy to help,” Cas said with his usual sincerity.

“You always do, Cas,” Dean mumbled around a mouthful. He looked up at his friend and winked at him - and then realized what he’d just done and stared back down at his bowl in a mild panic.

“What’re we playin’?” Sam asked, instinctively rescuing his brother.

“Challenge,” Mary answered and shuffled again.

“What’s that?”

“Ok...so...all th' cards get spread out ‘n a big pile ‘n th’ middle. Firs’ player draws a card. ‘If issa non-face card, they take a drink’a beer. ‘F issa jack, they give the player to th’r lef' a challenge. ‘F the player fails th' challenge, they do a shot. If they win, then th' one who gave the challenge does th’ shot AND you c’n challenge 'em back. Same rules. If issa queen, you pick a category, like, ‘ _dog_ ’, ‘n then you go ‘round ‘n eash person has ta call out a kinda dog, ‘til somebody hes’tates or can’t think’a one. _Tha_ ’ person does a shot. If issa king, you’re the ‘Thumb King’ ‘til the nex’ king ‘s drawn. You getta put y'r thumb on y’r forehead wh’nev’r you want, ‘n the las' person to do it does a shot. If issa ace, everybody does a shot.”

Sam and Cas looked at each other across the table.

“That’s it? Just those three thousand rules?” Dean asked, rising to fetch the whiskey and shot glasses. “Should be super easy when we’re hammered.”

“Tha’s the point, Sunshine.” Mary said as she shuffled the deck. “‘Sides, you ‘n Sam need t’ catch up a li’l anyway. Ih’ll be good ‘f you don’ know th’ rules f’r a minute.” She finished the sentence with her chin curled down toward her chest, trying to stifle a burp. It came out as a forceful exhale instead.

She lifted her gaze to her eldest son and gave him her most dazzling smile. “Could you get th’ chips ‘n popcorn outta Cass’ss room, please?” She batted her eyes at him.

Dean snorted. His mother was ridiculous.

With an exaggerated eye-roll and sigh, he set the glasses and booze on the table and dragged himself out of the kitchen. Mary giggled and continued to shuffle.

“Thaaaank you!” She called after him. He grunted as he left and she laughed again.

She shuffled twice more and then looked at Cas.

“Is he gone,” she whispered.

Cas tilted his head, listening. “Yes, he’s reached the far side of the war room.”

“Ok, listen,” Mary said urgently, leaning forward. Sam and Cas both leaned in as well. “We just wanna get him tipsy, not sloppy, so we’re gonna move through a couple of different games and then I’m gonna suggest we stop and watch a movie. Sam, you and I are gonna ‘get tired’ _(finger quotes)_ and skip out of the movie early on. We’ll do it one at a time, though, so he doesn’t get spooked.”

“You’re not slurring anymore,” Sam said.

“ _Sam! Just listen!_ ” Mary demanded. “We’re gonna play a couple of rounds of this one. The next game is ‘spoons’. It needs to get physical, so Sam, do whatever you need to do to get your brother competitive. We need him diving after those spoons. When he does, Cas, you remember what to do?”

Cas nodded.

“Good. Ok. After that, I might have us do one more game...just roll with whatever I come up with. I dunno yet. But then I’ll suggest a movie.” She started glancing back to the opening of the kitchen, paranoid that Dean would catch them.

“The movie is to allow me an opportunity to be alone with Dean?” Cas asked to confirm.

“Yeah,” Mary answered, a little shocked that it wasn’t blatantly obvious to him.

Cas grimaced. “All of this is starting to feel extremely manipulative. Are you sure we should-” he stopped talking when Mary smacked him hard on the arm.

“You _want him_ or _what?!_ ” She yelled at him with her eyes, words, and body language, but kept her voice hushed. “We’ve been hashin’ this out for three freakin’ days, man!It’s  _GO_ time! _Nut up_!”

Cas looked a little stunned, but he nodded at her and dropped his argument...and spent the next several seconds letting his ego recover from the assault.

“Ok,” Mary said. She looked between the two of them. “We good?”

They both nodded at her. Sam couldn’t hide his smile anymore.

“I just...I have to know,” he said, leaning even further toward his mother. He was staring at the kitchen door, now, as well, and keeping his voice very quiet. “Are you tryin’ to get Dean to dive at a spoon so Cas can wrestle him for it?” He barely made it through the sentence before his laughter got the best of him.

Shhh!” Mary said through her own laughter.

“Oh my god…”

“Don’t knock it. It works.”

The two of them giggled uncontrollably until Cas made a quick motion with his hands. Mary loudly shuffled one last time. Dean entered the kitchen a few seconds later.

“‘K. ‘S everybody got th’ rules?” she asked, and began spreading the cards out in the middle of the table. She looked up and smiled very lovingly at Dean when he set the bowls full of snacks close enough for her to reach.

“Thanks, Dean.”

He winked at her and sat down.

Mary slurred out a few additional rules while Sam cleared the dinner dishes and got his game-face on.

She made sure they all looked ready, and she eyed the level of each beer. Then she popped half a cookie into her mouth, cracked her knuckles, and drew the first card.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive amounts of love to omgbubblesomg and hazeldomain for beta'ing this for me and getting rid of a ton of mistakes. You guys are AWESOME!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so not supposed to be working on this one. I'm supposed to be finishing The Wing Fic and working on The Tether. For the sake of all that is pure and good in the universe, I HAVE TO FOCUS! WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?!!!!!!

 

 

Cas’s face showed the barest hint of a smile. He turned his card so Dean could see. It was a jack.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Dean grumbled to himself. “Alright, dammit. Let’s hear it... What’s the challenge?”

Cas didn’t hesitate at all. “Don’t blink until I do.”

“Fuck,” Dean whined.

Sam let out a loud burst of laughter and gave Cas a couple of slow claps. It took Mary a second to understand, but when she did, she threw her head back and laughed hard.

Dean didn’t even bother trying - he just downed the shot and slid his glass toward Sam for a refill. He mock-glared at the angel. He’d called no-mojo just a short time into the game, but somehow Cas was still handing him his ass at every turn and he couldn’t figure out how he was doing it.

Cas’s smile grew wide and sly and he dropped the jack neatly in the discard pile.

“Ok...new rule,” Dean announced. “You can’t give challenges for stuff you use your grace to be really good at.”

Sam and Mary loudly objected.

“Noooo...you can’t jus’ ban all th’ stuff he’s good at,” Mary said, giggling slightly. She grinned at him and shook her head, like she couldn’t believe he actually thought he’d get away with it.

“Exactly,” Sam agreed. “ _A_ _nd_ you gotta be a lot more sp’spific.”

“How’s that?” Dean asked, cocking his head to hear better. “Spespiffip? You been losin’ alot, huh, Sammy?”

“Fuck you,” Sam said flatly and then got back to the subject at hand. “You can’t just change the rules when someone’s better at something than you. You freakin’ _always_ do this! You’re the _shittiest_ loser!”

“How would you know? You never beat me,” Dean countered and drew a card. He showed it to his brother and flashed a devastating smile - it was the last jack.

Sam set his jaw and glared at him.

“Fine. What’s the challenge?”

“Say ‘specific’ three times fast.” Dean’s smile was truly brilliant, now, making it clear he assumed he’d already won.

Mary laughed hard again and helped herself to a handful of popcorn.

Sam took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and concentrated… He messed it up on the first try.

Dean chuckled. He tossed the card on the discard pile and popped his brother on the shoulder.

Cas tapped Mary’s thigh under the table, as he casually reached up with his other hand to put his thumb on his forehead. Mary quickly did the same and kicked Sam. He got his thumb up there a split second before Dean did.

“God Dammit! Cas!” Dean boomed.

Cas pushed Dean’s shot glass toward him with a smile.

Sam lifted his own shot in a toast to his friend, then smirked at Dean. Both men downed their shots at the same time.

“Ok,” Mary giggled. “Las’ card’s yours Sam, then we’re gonna play ‘Spoons’...”

 

* * *

 

 

Dean turned on the small kitchen radio and strolled back to the table.

“Sooo...” he said, a bit over-dramatically, when Sam and Mary returned from a potty break. He handed a fresh beer to each of them and took his seat. “Four drunk hunters fightin’ over three spoons...in a room full of metal corners and sharp objects. What could possibly go wrong?”

Sam chuckled and scanned the table. He noted the placement of the spoons, then mumbled something and scooted very far back on his seat, increasing the distance between himself and the nearest spoon.

“What’re you doin’?” Dean asked, immediately suspicious.

“Well...my arms are longer, so…” Sam vaguely explained. He cleared his throat and got himself comfortable.

Dean smirked at him. “You think your freakin’ gorilla arms give you an edge?”

“I’m just tryin’ to be fair, Dean.”

“They make you slow!”

Sam frowned. “Whatever. It’s not just that, though...I mean… Look, I know your arm’s gotta be hurtin’. That one wolf tagged you pretty hard-”  

“My arm’s fine!” Dean loudly corrected him.

Sam set his jaw and sighed in disgust.

“And I don’t need a damned handicap to kick your ass,” Dean continued. “My arm could be _broke_ and I’d _still_ get a spoon faster than you.”

“You’re injured?” Cas asked and partially stood, already starting to reach across the table.

“I’m fine,” Dean insisted, waving off the angel’s play for his forehead.

Cas crumpled back down in his seat. He stared at Dean with his usual disappointment and worry.

Dean sighed - annoyed...and then guilty.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, much more softly. “Really. It’s just a bruise.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Mary mumbled to herself. She shot an exasperated look at her eldest. “Jus’ let ‘im _heal_ you!”  

“It’s a _bruise,_ ” Dean repeated, like maybe she hadn’t heard.

“He’s y’r _frien’_. He wans t’ help you. Jus’ _..._ let ‘im do ‘is thing! _Jesus!"_  She popped the last piece of shortbread into her mouth and shuffled the deck once more. “Y’ act like it’s gonna kill ya.”

Dean let his arm drop heavily onto the table and rolled his eyes. He looked across at Cas, who was still staring at him, and begrudgingly motioned for him to heal him.

Cas didn’t move.

“Cas,” Dean coaxed.

Cas crossed his arms. “Yes?”

Sam quietly chuckled.

Dean ignored his brother. He met his friend’s challenge with an equally intense stare, but quickly caved. He cleared his throat and gave him his best, ‘I’m with the FBI. Now give me what I fucking want’ fake-smile. Cas recognized it and the corner of his mouth ticked up.

“Castiel,” Dean began, as sarcastically as possible, “would you please...pretty please with a cherry on top...heal the tiny bruise on my arm so my mom will get off my ass?”

Cas snorted once and grinned, then reached for him. Instead of the forehead, he grabbed Dean’s hand to heal him, and gave it a light squeeze before he let go.

“Your deal, Sammy.” Mary slid the deck to him and looked around the table. “Ev’r'body r’member howda play?”

Each of them grunted some sort of affirmative and prepared themselves. The competitive mood was already beginning to build.

Dean shot a quick, sheepish look at Cas and nodded. “Thanks, Cas” he mumbled.

“Of course,” Cas mumbled back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Pass.”  
“Pass.”  
“Pass.”  
Sam kept his voice entirely monotone and it only served to ramp up the tension in the room. He took the next card his brother gave him and didn’t bother putting it in his hand before swiping a spoon. It was a slick move with barely a change in his overall demeanor and his three opponents each missed it for at least a half a second. Mary would have missed her opportunity to grab the second spoon, if Sam hadn’t kicked her under the table.

Dean got his fingers on the handle right when Cas hit the tip of the spoon’s ‘bowl’ and sent it flipping end over end through the kitchen toward the door.

They eyed each other...

Both of them dove off of their seats, using the edge of the table to propel themselves. They slid on their chests across the slick floor, until they merged into a grunting, twisting pile of aggressive limbs.

Cas reached for the spoon and would have gotten it, but Dean put his whole hand over the angel’s face and shoved him at least a foot backward. He used the momentum to scoot close enough to reach the spoon, but as he reached for it, Cas grabbed the belt and waist of his jeans and jerked him bodily out of range.

Cas made another grab for the spoon and missed, it slid a few inches further away.

Dean went for the face-grab again, but Cas dodged and rolled onto Dean’s back, pinning him down.

Dean flailed uselessly beneath his friend’s weight.

“Aaah!” he yelled, more annoyed than hurt, when Cas dug a bony knee into his ass cheek. The angel launched himself forward using Dean for leverage...essentially climbing his friend horizontally. He flopped down and his belly landed on Dean’s head, squishing the side of the man’s face into the concrete.

“Get off!” Dean demanded through smooshed lips.

Cas grabbed the spoon and rolled away.

Dean slowly peeled his face off of the floor and leveraged himself up into a sitting position. He rubbed at his neck and jaw.

Sam slowly shook his head. “We’re playin’ how many rounds of this?” he asked his mom.

Mary just grinned at him and winked.

Sam chuckled and grabbed a handful of popcorn. “Yeah...we’re all gonna die.”

“Ok,” Mary giggled around a huge smile. She lifted her phone and began to type. “That’s one for Dean.”

“Drink up!” Sam said as he loudly tapped a shot glass down onto the table in front of Dean’s seat.

Cas got to his feet first and offered his hand. Dean mock-frowned at him and then accepted the help.

“Are you alright?” Cas asked, still keeping a grip on Dean’s hand.

Dean stared at him - a mix of emotions flickered across his face. Then his brow wrinkled in confusion. He looked back and forth between Cas and Sam.

“What’s wrong with you two?” he demanded. “First _Sam,_ thinkin’ a little tap on the arm’s gonna take me outta commission. And now _you_...” he gestured at Cas.

“I was simply being polite,” Cas explained. It came out sounding a bit more magnanimous than Dean’s liquor-enhanced ego could tolerate.

“I wrestle some asshat to get to the shiny thing... _minimum,_ once a week, Cas, so _, yeah_... _I’m good._ ”

Cas let the indignant barrage wash over him. He nodded graciously and let go of his friend’s hand, then stepped back to give Dean his coveted personal space.

Dean let his gaze very quickly sweep down Cas. He frowned.

“You, uh...prob’ly shouldn’t be doin’ this in your...uh…” He made a vague motion, indicating Cas’s entire body and cleared his throat nervously. Then he painted on a plastic smile and reached out to tug Cas’s vest back down into the correct position. He swiped his hand over the front, trying to remove some of the dust and dirt. “Don’t wanna mess up your _datin’_ duds!”

Cas looked down at himself and winced. “Yes,” he said, and began tugging at his shirt. “You’re probably right. I should take them off.”

Dean froze for a split second, then continued helping Cas to get cleaned up.

“The jeans ‘n shirt’ll be fine, Cas, jus’...maybe not the vest ‘n tie,” Mary chipped in. She  watched this little scene with barely hidden amusement.

Cas nodded and carefully removed both items.

Dean stood there, waiting. He took each piece as Cas removed them. Then he folded them very nicely and placed them on the furthest counter top, away from the action.

Cas squinted - clearly confused, once again, by his friend’s insistence on doing something for him that he could easily do himself. He was about to turn a questioning look to Mary, when an old memory flashed through his mind. He quickly reached up and undid the top few buttons of his shirt and coaxed it open, then went about getting it neatly tucked back into his jeans.

When he looked up, Dean was staring at him with a mix of awe, terror, and something else Cas couldn’t discern.

It visibly upset Cas. He had no idea what he’d done wrong.

Dean dropped his gaze and shifted uncomfortably. He cleared his throat. “Who needs another beer?” he called out to the room and turned back to the refrigerator. All three called out an affirmative.

Cas looked over at Mary. She smiled reassuringly at him and mouthed _‘it’s ok’_. He nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.

By the time Dean retrieved the bottles and turned to head back to the table, his demeanor had changed back to normal. He popped open the bottles one at a time and sat them in front of each of them.

“Ok…” He let out a long, loud exhale, as he sat. “ _Obviously_ that was a fluke,” he said, gesturing with his thumb toward the floor and the open doorway. “No way is that gonna happen two more times, so...ya know...prepare to lose.”

 

 


End file.
